


Seating Arrangements

by grapehyasynth



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, Friends to Lovers, Frottage, Hand Jobs, M/M, POV Patrick Brewer, Roommates to lovers, Smut, they were roommates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-10
Updated: 2021-01-10
Packaged: 2021-03-14 22:00:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28677795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grapehyasynth/pseuds/grapehyasynth
Summary: "David, where am I supposed to sit?”They’ve had this conversation about sixteen times since they moved in together, when Patrick moved to town and the only available room was in the apartment David was renting by himself. Patrick knows they really need to just buy some chairs, because two grown men cannot comfortably share the futon unless they’re basically on top of each other.And maybe it’s because it’s been a long day, and it’s tax season, and he’s still a little annoyed that David didn’t let him rant about the redundancies in the forms he’s trying to fill out, but this train of thought gives him an idea.
Relationships: Patrick Brewer/David Rose
Comments: 60
Kudos: 301





	Seating Arrangements

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Januarium](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Januarium/gifts), [schittposting](https://archiveofourown.org/users/schittposting/gifts).



> Thanks to SMAC for helping me work through this ridiculous idea. I laughed to myself the whole time I was writing it, but hopefully it's also hot?
> 
> I meant to write other things today. I keep meaning to write other things. I am very bad at prioritizing the things.

Patrick comes into the living room for movie night, where David’s been watching _Friends_ while Patrick finishes up some paperwork, and sighs. 

“Can you budge up?” 

“Hmm?” David hums, without looking away from the screen. 

“David, where am I supposed to sit?” 

David’s sprawled the full length of their futon, his head resting against one arm and the tips of his toes brushing the other. Patrick wouldn’t be mad about it, normally; David looks comfortable, regal almost, and the futon had been expensive, so they should get the most of it. But it’s literally their only seating. 

“Oh.” David draws his legs in slightly, making about half a cushion available. “Is that better?” 

“No, that’s not-” They’ve had this conversation about sixteen times since they moved in together, when Patrick moved to town and the only available room was in the apartment David was renting by himself. Patrick knows they really need to just buy some chairs, because two grown men cannot comfortably share the futon unless they’re basically on top of each other. 

And maybe it’s because it’s been a long day, and it’s tax season, and he’s still a little annoyed that David didn’t let him rant about the redundancies in the forms he’s trying to fill out, but this train of thought gives him an idea. 

He wouldn’t do it with any of his other male friends, but over their months of living together, David’s become his _best_ friend, and he’s definitely proven he can give as good as he gets. 

So Patrick doesn’t ask David to move again. 

He just sits down on the edge of the couch in front of David’s legs, ignores David’s disgruntled “wha-”, and tilts backwards until he’s laying on top of David. 

“Ew, what are you _doing_?” David demands, pushing at Patrick’s shoulders. 

Patrick hums and wriggles a little to better align himself. He can feel David’s sharp knees pressing into his calves, his chest rising and falling under Patrick’s back. There’s a little tickle near his ear that he thinks might be David’s stubble. 

“Just finding a place to sit for movie night,” he informs David. 

“Alright, this is not sustainable,” David huffs. He pushes again, but Patrick’s tensing all of his muscles, making himself as immovable as possible. “Patrick! Don’t be a dick. I would’ve made room for you if you would’ve just used your words!” 

“What part of _where am I going to sit_ was unclear?” 

“You’re such a troll,” David growls, and he abandons the pushing in favor of bucking up with his hips. Patrick counters by pressing back, and - 

_Oh_. 

Oh, that’s - 

He has made a significant miscalculation. 

Realizing he’s gay shortly after moving in with David had been inconvenient, because now that he’s focusing on the right...motivational material, he’s horny _all the time_. And most people, regardless of their sexuality, seem to recognize that David Rose is like a north star for horniness. Patrick has tried to be cool about it, has gone on some Bumpkin dates and even had a few hookups, has generally tried to not make his roommate and best friend uncomfortable as Patrick acquaints himself with what he likes. 

But now, pressed together head to toe, David lifting his hips up so that his pelvis thrusts against Patrick’s ass? 

Well, to say Patrick likes it would be an understatement. 

At the next press of what is unmistakably David’s dick, Patrick doesn’t fully catch the embarrassing little moan-gasp that’s been trying to escape, and David stills beneath him. 

“Patrick-” David says, his voice catching oddly on the last syllable. 

Patrick reaches back with one shaking hand and fumbles until he feels the arm of the futon next to David’s head. He grips it, and then, with purpose, he grinds down again. 

He feels David’s mouth fall open against his shoulder, his breath panting hotly against his ear. 

“Is this-” he starts to ask. 

“Yeah,” David breathes. “Yeah, do it, Patrick.” 

He can feel David’s cock firming up beneath him, only the material of their joggers separating it from his ass. The thought sends a sharp hot want jittering down his stomach and through his own hardening dick, and he presses his ass back again, sliding it up and down David’s length as best he can. 

It’s inelegant, he doesn’t feel at all like he knows what he’s doing, he’s never imagined - this isn’t a thing he - god fuck, he thinks, as David’s tip catches on his cleft and they both grunt. 

He starts to rock back and forth, toes gripping the cushion, fingers clenched over the arm of the futon. Beneath him, David’s hips rise in little undulations, letting Patrick do most of the work but lifting in response to the sensations. 

A hand slides down his arm, finding his free hand, twining their fingers. Patrick rubs down, pushes back, ruts backwards as best he can, and he’s barely touching any of David’s skin, can’t even see his face - he wants to see David’s face as he comes _so badly_ \- and Patrick _aches_ , he’s harder than he thinks he’s ever been, his cock rocking against nothing as he winds David up. 

“You need to come first,” David gasps behind him. 

“What-” 

“Once I come, I’ll be too sensitive for this. So if you-” 

“Yeah, got it,” Patrick says quickly. “That won’t - that won’t take much, I’ll just-” 

“Do you want-” 

“Can you touch me, David?” 

David doesn’t need to be asked twice. He plunges a hand into Patrick’s joggers, cupping him over his boxers for a moment, and now Patrick’s rocking up into that pressure, down against David’s cock, forward and back, and he imagines what it would be like to do this on all fours, rocking back on a dick in his ass, forward into David’s hand. 

Then David slips his hand into Patrick’s underwear and grips him in his fist, his fingers hot and strong and firm against Patrick’s sensitive, desperate skin. 

“Ungghhh,” Patrick groans helpfully. 

“Take what you need,” David murmurs, and then he fucking _licks the back of Patrick’s ear_ , and Patrick gasps and ruts into David’s fist, and he’s not even trying to rub off against David anymore but it just kind of happens. This position is perfect. David is perfect. Patrick is going to come so fucking hard. 

Just when he thinks he can’t take it anymore, David tightens his grips and begins stroking Patrick in counterpoint to his thrusts, and Patrick cries out, all heat and sensation rushing towards his pelvis. His back rises off David’s chest as he comes, his dick pulsing into David’s hand. 

His head lolls back against David’s shoulder, and he thinks he feels the ghost of lips against his temple. Then David’s sliding his cum-wet hand to Patrick’s hip. 

“Do you need me to-” 

“Um, maybe?” David says, sounding strangled. “I don’t think I can get good leverage-” 

Patrick’s feeling distinctly too fucked-out and blissed-up now, but he starts to lazily roll his hips again. He can’t quite catch the earlier desperation and rhythm, but he hopes between them it’ll be enough. 

David presses up to meet him, his hips taking on an urgency, his cock insistent against Patrick’s ass and lower back. His fingernails are digging into Patrick’s waist, his breath coming short. Patrick’s still not all there yet, but he’ll be damned if he doesn’t focus as best he can on these feelings. 

He tilts his head back so their cheeks press together. He can feel David shaking underneath him. 

“Fuck me, David,” he whispers, on instinct. 

David groans and his hips lift off the couch, his cock juddering. There’s a hot rush, a sticky moistness suddenly pressing to Patrick’s ass through their joggers, and it should be gross, but somehow the contrast to the cooling cum on his own hip makes him wish desperately he could get it up again. 

They lay there, still pressed together head-to-toe, for a long moment, silent but for David’s little huffs of breath. 

Then, “Um, sorry, can you - it’s just - this is quickly becoming a bit much for my-” 

“Oh, right. Sorry.” Patrick scrambles off David, retreating to the now-actually-vacant far cushion of the futon. 

The TV is still playing. David looks from his sticky hand to the screen. “Monica’s never going too look at me the same way again.” 

They clean up in silence, backs to each other in the small bathroom. David got the worst of it; he keeps muttering something about dry cleaning bills, while Patrick’s pants are mostly clean thanks to David’s expert control. 

There’s a panic clawing its way up Patrick’s throat as they squeeze back out into the living room. Has he fucked everything up? Was David just being nice? Will he have to move out? 

Then he catches David’s eye, and David gives him a small, embarrassed, hopeful smile, and Patrick exhales. 

“Listen, if you-” David starts to say. 

“I- Oh, sorry, you go first.” 

“No, you.” 

“Okay, um.” Patrick looks at the futon and blushes. He thinks they’ll have to stand for this conversation. “David, I - I would be lying if I told you I haven’t thought about doing that for months.” 

David blinks. “Doing - that?” 

“I mean, not _that_ \- that was hotter than even my hottest fantasies, which is - which is really saying something. Um-”

David’s mouth curls into an intrigued smile that Patrick knows will spell trouble for him down the line. 

“But I have - have thought about - us. Doing - things. Kissing, and the - the other stuff, and in restaurants-” David’s face is doing funny things again so he clarifies, “Not, like, doing _that_ in restaurants, but - dates, I guess, is what I’m trying to - if you want, more of this, would be okay with me, but also the - dating, and talking, and things.” 

“Um.” David squints, and Patrick’s heart squeezes. He hadn’t realized how badly he wants this. “That depends. Will you stop bothering me about how I sit on the futon?” 

Patrick laughs. “Would we call it sitting? There was a lot of - a lot of horizontal action.” 

David grins and shimmies his shoulders a bit. “There was indeed.” 

“Well,” Patrick says, and he sidles up to David, sliding his arms around him tentatively, testing the waters. “I think maybe we could arrange something. I think we’ve proven that we’re capable of...creative solutions.” 

It’s only as David leans in, still smiling, that Patrick realizes that after all that, they still haven’t kissed. He makes sure to savor it. 


End file.
